The Architect
by mudgems
Summary: In which Stephen builds a terrible future, in an effort to rewrite the past. Doctor Strange is no stranger to death, or to looping time. He has a plan, but it hinges on the cooperation of one of the most unreliable anti-heroes he's ever met. Enter Loki: God of Knives. An Avengers: Infinity War time travel fix it (or at least the beginnings of one). One shot.


**Fandom:** Marvel Cinematic Universe: _Avengers, Thor_ and _Doctor Strange_ movies

 **Title:** The Architect

 **Rating:** Teen and up

 **Genre/pairings/warnings:** Gen, time travel fix it (sort of), Loki & Stephen frenemyship, angst, feels, canon-typical violence including temporary character death

 **Setting:** _Avengers: Infinity War_

 **Summary:** In some of the many futures Strange tastes, he uses the Time Stone to travel back. No matter the changes he makes, all paths lead to the present, and he comes to realise the futility of his influence. But such is the infinite nature of time, he finds he has all the opportunity he needs to observe. To experiment. To learn. He gets to know the players, and the way the board must be set. He need only put them in position for that one future to come to pass.

Or

In which Stephen builds a terrible future, in an effort to rewrite the past.

 **Notes:** British spelling ahoy.

* * *

The first time Stephen looks back, Loki kills him outright.

The second time, it takes him slightly longer.

* * *

Stephen staggers out from the ring of sparks and into the midst of battle. The corridor is dark and hazy, a single light flickering at its far end. Acrid smoke curls overhead and the stink of death hangs heavy.

It's all Stephen can do to straighten himself fully as the Asgardian prince he seeks dispatches a final enemy, his dagger drawn smoothly from an armoured torso with a slick slide of ichor. The creature gurgles and loosens its clutch on Loki's surcoat with terminal reluctance, finally slumping to the floor with a clang of metal on metal.

Loki's breathing is loud, his expression feral. He jerks his head to assess the tangle of still and twitching bodies on the floor around him and seems to satisfy himself that the immediate danger has passed. With a casual flick of his wrists the blood coating his clothing and blades disappears.

He whirls to resume his hunt and comes to an abrupt stop several yards from where Stephen now stands.

The wavering portal fizzles to a close at Stephen's back as its integrity fails. Stephen's still astonished he'd managed to establish it at all, if he's honest.

Loki masters his surprise quickly.

"You…" he breathes, his eyes narrowing in recognition.

A distant boom reverberates through the ship and rattles every panel and vent overhead. The shudder is enough to knock Loki slightly off balance, but Stephen is ready for it this time.

Mustering his last reserves, he sketches the simple glyph with trembling fingers and pushes it forward with a final pass of his hand. The fiery web dissipates on contact with its target as Loki hauls himself back upright against the corridor wall, and when he registers the action he turns a murderous look on his attacker.

"What is this?" Loki demands softly, and his knife's twin appears in his other hand.

Stephen tenses in resigned anticipation as he watches Loki coil and prepare to strike. He knows his cloak will try to deflect the blow, but it will be a fraction too late.

The only tell Loki gives as the spell takes effect is a slight narrowing of his eyes and a millisecond's hesitation, and when the thrown knife slams into the same spot through Stephen's ribcage for the second time he decides this is going to get real old real fast.

* * *

A distant boom reverberates through the ship and rattles every panel and vent. The shudder is enough to knock Loki slightly off balance, and when he straightens the spell is already settling over him.

"What is this?" he demands, once again palming both weapons.

Stephen watches closely for the change, and when it happens this time Loki visibly pauses. He glances down at the knife in his right hand then back up at Stephen, a bemused look on his face.

"Well now," he purrs dangerously. "Isn't this interesting."

If the knife is thrown with just a hint of malice this time, Stephen doesn't quite have time to call him on it.

* * *

"What is this?" Loki demands, the knives sliding smoothly into his hands.

The spell takes effect, and this time there's anger.

"Is this some kind of trick?" he spits, enraged.

"It's no trick," Stephen tells him, but the assurance only earns him two knives this time instead of one. As he hits the ground and thinks 'oh come _on_ ', he sees Loki loom over him before he dies.

* * *

The spell takes effect, and Loki says nothing. The look he gives Stephen is cold and calculating, but also, for the first time, somewhat cautious.

Stephen thinks maybe he's getting somewhere, so he risks a small step forward.

"This is getting a bit repetitive now, wouldn't you agree?" he tries, his hands held before him in surrender. He freezes with a flinch as Loki hurls his arm forward.

The blade hovers in the air before Stephen's chest, its point just shy of touching him. Loki lowers his arm slowly, and Stephen uses that moment to recover a breath. After another tense second, the illusion disintegrates into wisps of golden green.

Stephen inclines his head in genuine, if ironic, thanks. Loki flashes him a grin that quickly sours into something more dangerous but doesn't sheath his real weapons.

"You have my attention," the Asgardian concedes.

Another explosion, much closer this time, rattles the corridor around them. A pattering of loosened dust settles on Stephen's shoulder, and Loki casts a wary look over the ceiling.

"I am not your enemy here," Stephen tells him before he can ask.

"No?" Loki queries, his suspicion disingenuous. They both know exactly who it is they should fear here. "You'll forgive my lingering doubt."

Stephen offers a small smile. "You're under attack and I appear out of nowhere. I'm an unknown threat and your instinct is to neutralise me. I get it. But trust me – this is bigger than just us."

"Well I don't," Loki replies. "Trust you, that is. We have unfinished business, you and I."

They need to move past this if they're going to get anywhere here. Stephen's not going to apologise for what happened the last time they met, but he really doesn't want to be murdered. Again. And if he's honest, he never has responded well to threats.

He can't help the edge of self-satisfaction that creeps into his voice as he says: "You tried to conquer Earth. I'm charged with preventing that sort of thing from recurring. No hard feelings."

Loki smirks without agreeing, then tilts his head in question. "We're still far from Midgard," he misunderstands, every word a deliberate demonstration of his doubt. He's not buying it, and he wants Stephen to know it.

"Does your reach truly stretch this far?" he continues, stalking slowly forward. "I'm flattered." The glint in his eyes says he'll not be sent into freefall again.

Stephen isn't ready to disclose just how much this trip has cost him. That he's at the very limits of what he's capable of. The distance. The fact that he's never been here before. The strain of reversing time again, and again, and again. He has absolutely nothing left, but he can't afford to show weakness now.

"That's not why I'm here," he says calmly. Another shudder vibrates through their feet and Stephen points one finger to the ceiling. "That's why."

"You ask me to believe that you have no part in this? That's quite the leap. I'm still of a mind to kill you where you stand, just to be safe."

"I'd be incredibly grateful if you didn't," Stephen says. He really is becoming quite tired of dying.

Loki considers his options for a long moment and seems to come to some sort of decision. He flips one of his knives in the air and sheaths it with a flourish. The second he spins lazily in his fingers.

"Tell me then, _wizard_ ," he says, pouring scorn into the intentionally disparaging honorific. "What is it you plan to do here?"

A tired smile pulls at Stephen's mouth. "You could say I've come to bargain."

There's distant screaming now, the sounds carrying to them on the air currents being circulated around the ship. Loki flicks his eyes just beyond Stephen's left shoulder, drawn to the origin of the disturbance. He's trying to feign indifference, but that glance gives him away. Stephen can sense his impatience.

"You want to help them," Stephen observes mildly. "So do I. But to do that, I need something from you."

For a moment, Loki's expression is unreadable. Then an ugly smile slips onto his face with practised ease. "Spare me your flattery," he says. "If you are truly as altruistic as you pretend, you'll move out of my way."

Patience, Stephen counsels himself, even as his insides clench. It seems there will be many more deaths for him yet, before this is over. He acquiesces by stepping aside and sweeps an arm out in polite invitation. Loki eyes him with suspicion and doesn't move.

Another scream echoes along the corridor, nearer this time, and the sounds of running feet beat an uneven rhythm into the metal floor. He's trying to hide it, but it's too close for Loki to ignore.

"Duty calls," Loki says glibly as he moves to go around his obstacle. He makes a show of changing his mind just as he passes and turns to lean into Stephen's space.

"Don't go anywhere, will you?" he says pleasantly, the threat implicit in the way he lingers slightly too long.

As he finally turns to sprint towards the rising sounds of battle, Stephen tells his retreating back that he'll see him again real soon.

* * *

When the spell takes effect again, Loki blinks.

"You're right," he says. "This is getting tiresome."

Stephen chuckles. "I'd say I was sorry, but I'm really not." The thrown knife illusion doesn't make an appearance this time, he notices.

An explosion sends a light rain of dirt and dust pattering down on them both. Loki eyes Stephen's cloak as it shimmies to dislodge the debris. "Who _are_ you?" he asks with no small measure of annoyance. Then, more controlled, "I don't believe we've been formally introduced."

Now they're getting somewhere. "My name is Doctor Stephen Strange."

Loki smiles, but it's anything but friendly. "You Midgardians and your titles. Do you suppose they lend you power? Am I supposed to be impressed by such unambitious vanity?"

"Says the God of Mischief."

A glint of wicked amusement appears briefly in Loki's eyes. "I have many names, none of which I chose for myself. It was you and your kind that labelled me as such. But I must admit it has something of a ring to it."

"You can call me Stephen, if you prefer."

"I'd _prefer_ we didn't speak at all, but I can see you're a man of singular determination in that regard. Tell me, what is it about me that fascinates you so? What have you come all this way to ask?"

It's Stephen's turn to smile. "All in good time."

Loki groans dramatically. "Oh, spare me," he complains, rolling his eyes skyward. "Does this mean I have more of these little visits to look forward to? _Goody_."

"As many as it takes, I'm afraid."

Loki narrows his eyes, his tone suspicious. "What is the point to all this, I wonder? You did not come here just to trade barbs, I think."

"As I explained to your brother on your last visit to my planet, I practice the mystic arts in the defence of Earth."

"So you _are_ a wizard, then."

"I prefer the term sorcerer."

Loki simply smirks.

"As I've said before," Stephen continues, "I'm not your enemy. I am in fact a friend."

Loki snorts, but he's listening. "Do not mistake me for my brother," he says. "If it's Thor's help you want, you might try the other side of the ship. Where the fighting looks fiercest." Stephen doesn't miss the note of irony in his tone.

"It's not Thor's help I need."

Stephen can see it's going to take much more that this before Loki is ready to engage. He sighs inwardly. This is going to be a long day.

Loki's expression is once again one of haughty amusement. "I can tell you've put a lot of effort into securing an audience with me. Yet your timing leaves something be desired."

If he only knew. If Stephen's sanity holds out, they have all the time in the world.

The distant sounds of screaming filter to them from further along the corridor, and Loki's attention wanders. He frowns. He remembers going after them already.

"It's not my intention to keep you from your people, or your brother," Stephen assures him. "There are some things I need to know, and in return I can promise you my help."

Loki's eyes narrow. "Your help with what?"

"To fix all this."

* * *

The spell takes effect and Loki simply stares at him. Stephen had let him go towards the sounds with a promise they would talk more once he had finished. He'd looked sceptical but had said no more as he'd passed, a parting look of curiosity all he'd given away. Stephen hopes this is the final test, and that now they'll be able to begin properly.

"What exactly is happening here?" Loki asks, his previous air of disdain forgotten. "How are you doing this?"

Stephen has considered this moment many times. He's considered outright lying. He's considered laying everything out in a single monologue of dire premonition. He's considered finding a way to keep Loki here by force and simply talking at him until he gets it.

He's decided to go with the naked truth. But in small doses.

"In simple terms, I'm looping time."

Though, of course, it's anything but simple.

Loki considers this. "I see. Looping from where, might I ask? Or should I say, from when?"

"The not too distant future." From a number of many, many, many futures, in fact.

"Hmm. And you choose to revisit _my_ past over and over again. To what end? To turn me from a path of villainy and evil? To thwart me in some way? To prevent me making some terrible mistake?" There's an undercurrent of self-depreciation mixed in with the irreverent humour that Stephen finds curious.

"Nothing so convenient, I'm afraid."

"Yes. I do recall you mentioning a bargain, now that I think about it. Which begs the next question: how is it I can remember such a conversation?"

Stephen gives a lazy wave of his hand and wriggles his fingers in mime.

"Ah, of course," Loki says and points his finger at Stephen in mock realisation. "Wizard."

"Sorcerer," Stephen counters. "It's a straightforward spell really. I can't get the information I need if I have to spend every encounter persuading you to help me—"

"Or dying," Loki interrupts pleasantly.

Touché, Stephen thinks, and concedes this with an incline of his head. "So I'm taking a short cut."

"A memory spell. How shrewd of you." Is that a note of intrigue Stephen can detect?

The corridor vibrates around them and debris patters down from overhead. Loki's eyes track the descent of a flurry of dust and his eyebrows begin to draw together in consternation.

"Your spell would seem to be defective," he says eventually, his gaze returning to capture Stephen's own. "I remember these conversations well, but apparently not what comes after."

Stephen is skirting dangerous territory here. He doesn't want to lose control of this conversation, but he can already tell Loki is not going to be fobbed off with half the story.

"That's because it's not your memories the spell is concerned with, but mine."

Realisation blooms across Loki's otherwise closed face, and this time Stephen's certain it's grudging admiration he sees.

"You've given me your memories of this conversation," he guesses. "Or rather, all the ones that came before it."

"Tidy, isn't it."

Loki gives him an exaggerated, deferential bow. "My compliments."

The screaming starts, and any humour in Loki's expression vanishes. He hesitates for a moment, seemingly torn between staying and intervening, and as dawning realisation makes his face slowly darken, Stephen braces for the beginnings of a difficult conversation. The first of many, he imagines.

Loki approaches him slowly, his expression tight where moments before there was wry amusement. Stephen forces himself not to take a step back. He's been expecting this.

"You're not really here to help us, are you?" Loki accuses softly. There's a warning in his voice that has Stephen's cloak rippling around him nervously. "Exactly how many times have I run to the aid of my compatriots, hmm? How many times have you sent me off to my death?"

Okay, this he was not expecting. His surprise must show on his face, because Loki continues with triumphant disdain.

"You do not intend to join me in the defence of this ship. I cannot picture you past this point in time, which means you never try. You don't remember the coming battle either. And we would not be having this conversation here – _now_ – if there were any other choice. Which means these moments are likely my last."

Loki has cut to the very heart of it sooner than Stephen could have predicted. He's almost relieved.

"Just how much power has it cost you to come here?" Loki asks as he circles. "I took your trembling for fear, but I see now I have underestimated you. You're not afraid. You're exhausted."

Stephen fights back an ill-advised smile and holds his ground. Loki continues his slow circuit, eying him up and down.

"You're at the absolute limit of your power. If you could have gone further back you would have, but this is all you could manage. All to meet me here for a paltry few minutes before my inevitable demise that you'll make no effort to prevent. Tell me I'm wrong."

He's not wrong, but there's more to it than that, of course. If Stephen's to have any success persuading such a hostile and unknown element to cooperate, he needs to try when his chances are highest. Even a day or two further back could make all the difference, and he suspects Loki knows that.

"Nope. You're right." Stephen gestures vaguely to the corridor wall. "Mind if I sit? I'm gonna sit." He lets his back slide down the smooth metal until he's seated on the floor and can't help a small sigh of relief. It's nice not to have to keep up the pretence any longer.

Loki watches him in angry disbelief and tightens his hands into fists. "I think you'd better explain," he forces through clenched teeth.

"First I have some conditions," Stephen answers, and he can tell that hasn't gone down too well. Too bad. "It's a long story, and if I'm going to put us both through an untold number of these little one on ones to get through everything I want your assurance that you're going to listen."

Loki's face heats and he takes a breath to interrupt. Stephen doesn't let him. "And another thing. No more knives. You knife me again and I'll return the favour before we begin again the next time. I promise to make sure you remember it."

Loki raises his chin haughtily but doesn't reply.

"Can I take it from your simmering silence that you agree to my terms?" Stephen asks.

Loki scowls. "Fine," he says testily. "This better be good."

The sounds of louder screams reach them before Stephen can persuade Loki to take a seat. He watches impassively as the Asgardian clenches his jaw and turns to pace. Loki comes to a stop a short distance away, his back to Stephen's position on the floor.

"I can't save them, can I?" he murmurs eventually, his voice no longer hard. "I can't stop any of this from happening."

It's not that Stephen's completely heartless. He sympathises. He does. It took him some time to come to terms with the inevitability of his own death, and he doesn't expect Loki to just suck it up and roll with it. But he's not by nature a patient man. There are bigger things at stake here, and he's so damn tired.

Loki turns to him again with something like real regret in his expression. "Is there any point in me going?" he asks.

A louder scream and the clamour of running feet reach their ears. Stephen matches Loki's intense stare and simply shrugs. This has to be his decision. It won't change anything, either way.

Loki seems to take this as a challenge. He sets his chin and very deliberately lowers himself to sit, his back leaning against the wall opposite Stephen. He raises an unimpressed eyebrow and waits.

"You know," Stephen says after a spray of sparks has died down, "when I first planned this conversation in my head, I considered lying to you."

It's clear from Loki's expression that he's mildly affronted by the suggestion such a tactic could work. "Oh? And what changed your mind?"

He's not going to admit that it's partly a sense of decency. Of honour. Of respect. He finds he doesn't have the stomach for anything less than full disclosure here, and he suspects that if he's to get anything valuable in return, he needs to reveal all. A selfish part of him also wants to share the burden, and he feels no particular need to shelter this man from such terrible knowledge.

Instead he says, "We have a saying on Earth. We say that the truth is a beautiful thing."

"The truth? Beautiful?" Loki barks a derisive laugh. "No. The truth is ugly. It's repulsive. But a lie, now there's a more pleasing picture. Lies are what we want them to be, and we fall over ourselves to believe them."

"You wouldn't thank me for a lie. Not here. You may not want the truth either, but I think in this case you might need it. It's what you deserve."

"Hmm. How very profound, doctor. Then I suggest you get to the point and spare us both this unnecessary philosophising."

"He's here for the tesseract," Stephen says bluntly. It's as good a place to start as any. "He knows you have it."

If that statement makes any sort of impression, Loki is careful not to show it. Perhaps he's already guessed as much. He certainly seems to know enough not to need to ask who it is they're talking about.

Stephen continues. "You think you can outwit them. You think it's well hidden. But I promise you, they will find it. If not here and now, then after. Whatever you try will only delay the inevitable."

"And what would that be, exactly?" Stephen thinks there might be a note of caution there.

"The end of the universe as we know it. Or at least, half of all the souls in it."

Loki surges back to his feet, and Stephen knows he has him. He doesn't seem to require proof, or further persuasion, or any more time to think this through. He's seen first hand just what Thanos is, and there's no doubt in his mind that Stephen speaks a very probable truth. He looks as though he might be sick.

"No," he finally mutters. "No. You're wrong. You have to be." It seems that denial is not quite beyond him yet, however.

"I'm not wrong," Stephen assures him. "You always knew your path led here."

Loki whirls on him, his mouth stretched into a snarl. "There's always a way. A way out. You claim to be the master of time. So find a way around this."

He has tried. God knows, he has tried _everything_. Everything he can possibly think of. Every permutation he has the power to affect, every change he can nudge into being, every ripple he can send through time with a tweak, a push, a shove. His part in this is so very small. It is others he must rely on if he's make a difference, and the web he must weave is complex and delicate. He is so close - he can _feel it_ \- but these last few strands are gossamer thin.

If he'd known before he'd started this that his last piece - his ace in the hole - would be the man before him, he may never have considered this course of action. But he must play with the pieces he's given. And he's running out of viable moves.

"I may have a way," he tells Loki earnestly. "But you're not going to like it."

The sudden laughter is sharp and unkind. "Oh, I like it less and less already."

"You must give Thanos the tesseract."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It is the only way."

"Forgive me, but that course of action strikes me as somewhat counterintuitive."

Stephen thinks of the countless trillions of lives he's seen fly apart in clouds of fine ash, his own included. "Believe me. If I thought there was another way, I'd suggest it."

"And what then? I take it Thanos will retrieve it no matter what I do. Do you suppose he will spare my life if I offer it freely? Because I really don't think you understand him if you do."

"No. He won't spare you. And I'm afraid we must insist that he doesn't." Stephen has caused untold variants where Loki lives. Often it means that Thor dies in his place, or if not that Thor's path diverts too far from the one Stephen is convinced they all need to follow. Loki's death is a catalyst. A necessary sacrifice in this bloody war.

Loki stares at him incredulously at this. Stephen can only offer a wearily apologetic, "I'm sorry."

The pause is not as long as Stephen might expect. Loki is surprisingly quick to take this in stride, and Stephen wonders just how exactly Loki had expected this day to end.

"Leaving aside your stunningly tactless delivery of this news," Loki eventually says, "it strikes me that all this is likely to come to pass anyway."

"I'm afraid so, yes."

"And so? Why tell me this? It changes nothing."

"Because I need you to understand what I'm asking of you, and why."

Loki waits, a single eyebrow raised.

"Thor must live."

Loki makes an unflattering sound. "Ah yes, it's always about the mighty Thor, isn't it?"

Stephen has been on this merry-go-round enough times. He has learned exactly what Loki does when it comes to it. He's not fooled by the disdain for a minute, but he'll let Loki keep his defences. It's the least he can do.

"Actually, it's about you. The old you, that is."

"I do not understand."

"I have seen Thor survive. I have seen him wield the Time Stone. He will use it send himself back."

"To what end?"

"To collect the stones before Thanos can."

Something flickers behind Loki's eyes, and his face begins to close off. There's the beginnings of understanding there, and a wariness Stephen finds troubling. "Thor knows as well as I the location of the stones that came into my possession, and when. I can tell you nothing he does not already know."

Stephen nods. "Right. I've seen him find them. And try to hide them. Or destroy them. Or use them. But it's not enough. Thanos still finds the Power Stone and the Soul Stone, and in the end it's enough to give him an edge. He always wins."

"Then the solution is to kill him before he can get a foothold. No easy feat, I can promise you."

"You're right. And there's only one person able to find him when he's at his weakest, when he has not a single stone in his possession. We could dearly use his help."

Loki turns away from him and leans with a hand against the corridor wall. He is silent for some time.

"The brother Thor knew then… he is a different man than I. He will not help you."

"No. And evidently he never does."

"Then what insight do you suppose I can give you that will change that?"

"You tell me. That's why I'm here. There must be something, _something_ Thor could say that could get through to you. Something he could do that might reach you-"

"Do not presume to know anything about me," Loki growls, incandescent with sudden fury. He stalks closer, and were it not for the futility of fear at this point, Stephen might have been inclined to quail. "Shall I tell you? Shall I tell you about the broken wretch you seek to ally with? Shall I tell you of the centuries of hate and jealousy? Of the betrayal and the ruin? Of the absolute _certainty_ that creature holds in its heart that he is already lost? You have not the _slightest_ notion of what you're dealing with. Do not insult me by presuming you do."

The silence that follows is thick with misery and shame, and the finality in it is almost enough to break Stephen's faith. "There must be something," he insists a little desperately.

Loki's voice is wintry. "I can think of nothing. You are a fool to even try."

With that he sweeps away down the corridor with his weapons already drawn, a fatalistic determination to his stride. Stephen watches him go with no small amount of frustration and convinces himself it's not despair he feels creeping over him.

* * *

The spell takes effect and Stephen wastes no time sliding to the floor. He cradles his head in his hands, letting the exhaustion wash through him in an overbearing wave. He doesn't need to look up to picture the thwarted rage on Loki's face, and he hears him fling his knives to the ground with an inarticulate shout.

"You will stop this!" he demands with the infuriated air of someone who knows he has no leverage. "I will _not_ be trapped in your unending, fruitless wanderings."

"I can't stop," Stephen tells his drawn up knees. "Not until we work this out."

A pair of dark boots enter his field of vision and he leans back with a sigh. Loki looms over him, blue flame and ice smouldering in his eyes.

"How can you be certain there is anything to be done?" Loki challenges. "If we are all to die - if fate fights you _this_ hard - who are you to change that?"

"Call me a hopeless optimist," Stephen replies with a wan smile.

His dispassionate response seems to disarm his bristling captive-in-time. Loki turns his back, his hands fisting and unclenching at his sides. The hull groans and shudders around them, the haze of smoke still hot and smothering.

"I can think of nothing Thor might say that he does not already try," Loki says after some time, his voice distant and distracted. "But perhaps…" He turns, sparing Stephen a measuring look. "Perhaps there is something he can give."

Stephen is not fast enough to articulate a protest before Loki is on him in two swift strides. He crouches, grasps Stephen's hand and holds it flat to his own forehead, and with a blur of golden light the world snaps sideways.

 _The visions he sees are instants stretched long and full. He watches as if from several perspectives at once, separated as a dreamer from a dream yet immersed and subsumed as in a memory. Colour is rich and deep, edges soft but defined. Each is layered and nuanced but difficult to fully grasp, sounds muted and meaning gleaned without sensation or logic or reason._

 _He watches the pure agony of grief. A silent scream hangs suspended in the air, walls closing, pressing, sealing around him. Blame and hate and sorrow and desolation - they curdle together into unfocused power, a force he cannot control that will rip him apart. It crackles unspent around him, poisoning him to his core._

 _He watches the welcome oblivion of death. The sand and ash is black and rough. It thirsts for the thick blood sinking in and he almost longs to follow it. He is frozen in a coveted embrace, an insidious treason lurking beneath. Light glints from a tear shed in love and is swallowed by the dark treachery of his soul, an unwanted absolution he craves and longs for and doesn't (doesn't doesn't doesn't) need._

 _He watches beneath a grey and churning sky, wind whipping the long grass at his calves, sea salt spray flung high against cobalt cliffs. The horizon stretches out beyond his sight, a dark and sharp secret creeping at his back. A breath he's been holding for a thousand years releases skywards in motes of golden light but a limitless weight presses down all the heavier for it._

 _He watches his home wreathed in flame, a destruction of his own doing, a final sacrificial purging of all his life once held dear. The heat of it scorches his face and the light blinds him, the hideous beauty of it exquisite and terrible all at once._

Stephen breaks free like a drowning man breaching the surface of deep water. His guts try to lurch their way upwards and his hands shoot out to brace himself against a sudden lack of motion. Loki regards him warily on his haunches, his face guarded and waiting.

Stephen chokes. "What did you…"

"I thought you liked memory spells," Loki says with a cruel twist of his mouth that doesn't quite reach his eyes. It vanishes quickly, and his gaze turns intent. There is pain there, Stephen realises. Pain and a deep, unspoken guilt.

"Words will not be enough," he says solemnly, completely sincere at last. "Thor must show him. He must show him _me_."

Stephen imagines a final scene in that slideshow of suffering. He pictures Thor cradling the body of his brother among the fallen, his world ending in a fiery ruin of indigo heat.

He looks back at Loki and sees that he pictures this too, or something like it. There's a sad almost-smile on his face, and something a little like fear. But there's conviction too, and Stephen feels his own determination rise to meet it.

"You do your part, and I'll do mine," Stephen promises him, and if there's not exactly trust in the look that's returned to him, there's at least the shared understanding that, come what may, the same fate awaits them both.

The screaming has already stopped, the shuddering of the hull falling to eerie silence. Stephen knows the time draws near. He has gleaned all he can. He needs to let Loki go.

"It's time," he says, and Loki flashes him a lacklustre smile.

"And what happens to you?"

Stephen shrugs. "Eventually they blow up the ship." He doesn't bother to admit that he lacks the strength to get home, even if he wanted to.

Loki rises slowly, an attempt at humour creeping back into his voice. "I'd just like to say that this is the worst plan I think I've ever heard, and I've lived for quite some time."

"But you'll do it. Can't be that bad."

Loki snorts. "What makes you so sure I will?"

"Because you love your brother. Because you have a chance to change your own path. Because you wish Thor had been able to get through to you when he had the chance."

And because you always do.

The lip Loki curls at this isn't quite fast enough to disguise something deeper that flashes across his eyes. "I can't believe I've wasted my last moments on you."

Stephen grins. "How about I do us both a favour and make sure we never have to meet again. I'd say it's been a pleasure, but it really hasn't."

"Likewise," Loki says as he begins to move away. The emergency lighting overhead flickers its last and plunges them both into semi-darkness. Loki sighs dramatically at this, but pauses before he leaves. "You know," he says over his shoulder, "we had a custom on Asgard. Before a condemned man went to meet his end, he'd be permitted a final hour beneath the sky, a sort of illusion of freedom before the axe would fall. No man should go to his death in darkness."

"Loki," Stephen calls just before the Asgardian turns the corner. He stops to look back, his expression grim. "The sun will shine on you again, I promise. On both of you."

Loki smiles a knowing smile. "There now. Could this finally be a beautiful lie?"

"Whatever gets you through it," Stephen quips with a respectful nod.

"Die well," Loki returns magnanimously before disappearing into the gloom.

* * *

Time decelerates with whiplash ferocity and Stephen gasps at the change. It hurts to fall back into the normal flow of time, and for a moment his mind cannot comprehend all that it must now contain.

He has seen it. He has seen the answer. Unprompted, Loki has already done his part. And when Stephen does his it _works_. The only piece he has ever needed to nudge is before him, and the answer is simple.

He breathes the seed of an idea into Stark's mind long before Thanos defeats them, and when the time comes he trades the man's life for the stone.

Stark will live. He will return to Earth. And when he does, he will take with him an inviolable need to set the course right. And growing alongside that will be the certainty that the past is as malleable as the future, and that the memory technology he has set aside is where the answer lies.

END

Sequel _The Orchestrator_ now published


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